Limelight
by CafeJazz
Summary: Embrace everything, resent nothing, love all that this position gives and respect the two sides of the camera. Because in a world of fame, there's always the invisible ones. -Viola-centric


So many cameras. So many reporters. So many people.

And she's one of them.

A smooth beat fills the room and she can't help but feel overwhelmed by the electrifying atmosphere that manifests itself in the fast-paced murmurs of the audience which quiet as the lights dim in anticipation for opening season.

The beat comes to an abrupt stop as sound effects take its place.

 _Ch-ch-ch-_

 _BANG!_

The lights come on in a flash, the music starts up, and there's cheering as the show begins. It's all a little too noisy in the audience—weren't fashion shows supposed to be full of snobby, refined men and women?—but she can't help but become giddy as the lights dazzle across the room in a impromptu lightshow before landing onto the catwalk, the music amplifying the thrilling effect it creates among the people. She's never thought about the music much at a show but she supposes that it's just as important as the show itself. Almost.

The first model comes down and off goes the cameras, grabbing the glamour right off the cherry red gown she's wearing. She's glowing under the light and Viola nearly forgets she's not here to watch but to capture. She lifts her camera up and clicks and angles and zooms and tries to emulate the sparkle of the figure before she's gone but it's not at an easy task for a photographer who's only trained in nature shots, not in glamour or glitter. It's all up to intuition as she snaps a few dozen pictures while the next few girls come on and off, heels clicking, spotlight flashing, everyone's gaze glued to them.

She continues the click, click, zoom, snap of her camera but the energy in her from earlier dies quickly in the midst of the fervent crowd. She's got enough photos for the newspaper, she thinks, and tries to find and tell Alexa she'll be leaving early back to the hotel but her sister is surrounded by people, chatting with them about what they've seen, how they feel, and all that jazz. She's got her hands waving about animatedly while she talks and when she smiles those around her smile too, mesmerized by her antics.

Viola turns away and shrugs. She could just text her that she left early and slip out unnoticed while everyone's gazes still follow the echoes of the six-inch heels that the models leave in their aftermath.

But there's cheers and clapping so she turns to the catwalk again to see a model has come out. Blonde hair cropped so short, she wears blue pumps and a matching satin tunic so dark, at a glance it could be mistaken for black. It's not the clothes which command the attention of the audience but the woman herself, who keeps a fierceness in her face. She's the face of every magazine in Unova (and honestly, half of the magazines in Kalos too), billboard, bus ad, TV commercial and all. She's the girl everyone aspires to be and who can blame them? She's gorgeous yet tough, cool yet sensitive and she's made it. Viola doesn't even remember seeing a gym leader article that isn't about her because she's just that _in_.

"Oh my gosh. Elesa's fabulous," the woman next to her whispers to her friend.

"Have you heard? She's signed with Lumiose Boutique to model for them," her friend replies.

"Seriously? She's already got a modelling contract, fashion brand, and a perfume line that she's got to take care of here in Unova."

"Not to mention she's a gym leader as well. Do you think we'll be able to meet her when she comes to Kalos for her shoots?"

The lady squealed. "I hope so! It'd be cool to actually meet a gym leader in person."

Viola coughs into her arm loudly in an attempt to muffle her chuckle but it doesn't matter. The women pay her no mind and continue whispering.

Oh, well.

There's no shortage of celebrities in Kalos, overshadowing each other one by one, her, already forgotten at the bottom of a list of important people (or maybe a gym leader isn't that important after all).

She prefers it nonetheless.

She prefers it when the local TV station has nothing to say about her but hearsay and moves onto discussing Valerie's new costume or Clemont's inventions or that scandal that's got Malva and the league doing damage control ever since the Team Flare incident, she prefers it when the local magazines cover more on VIPS of regions so distant that the locals know more about Steven Stone's rock collection than her as a whole, and she prefers it when only the few _Bug Today_ subscribers recognize her on the streets in her grungy cargo shorts and laid back tank tops, cementing her beliefs that her legacy is nothing more than her vivillon pictures.

In fact, she loves it all.

She lifts up her camera and though she's not used to the protocol of fashion photographers she clicks in an attempt to capture the radiance from the woman under the spotlight. When she puts her camera down, in a matter of coincidences _her_ eyes lock onto _her_ eyes, from up on stage to down below in the dark depths of the crowd.

She's not sure if the high fashion model even recognizes her as a fellow colleague from another region but that doesn't matter because in that moment, they're both far away from the world of badges and battling and the contact they have is a mutual agreement they both sign in their split-second stare, a coincidental collision of their two worlds.

As soon as the woman onstage flicks her crystal blue eyes away, Viola shrugs as she makes her way to the exit, leaving the music and models behind except for what she's captured behind the lens.


End file.
